Seaman Jack Sparrow
by Runt Thunderbelch
Summary: A young Jack Sparrow sets his sights on the richest and fastest prize on the ocean.  A prequel to the movies.   Now complete!    Read, enjoy & review!
1. The Queen's Quail

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. This story is meant for amusement purposes only. After all, I'm no pirate.

Seaman Jack Sparrow

_The Queen's Quail_

Jack Sparrow, ordinary seaman, looked out across the harbor of Port Royal. An audible gasp escaped his lips as his heart twisted, his hand fell upon the knee of Bootstrap Bill Turner next to him, and he announced, "Oh Bill! I am in love!"

Bootstrap stopped dead in mid swig. His eyes flew to those of the young seaman next to him, but thankfully Jack was not gazing lovingly at him. Rather, the young man was focused on something in the harbor.

A slip of a ship was gliding gracefully into port. A pair of raked masts, hull as slender as a greyhound, lines trimmer than those of the most expensive whores in Tortuga, she took a man's breath away. "Oh Jack," he murmured. "What the hell is she?"

From behind them, Captain Barbossa's evil voice cut through the air. "I'll be telling ye that. She's a clipper named _The Queen's Quail._ Faster than a cannon shot she is. If she sets sail today, she can get to her destination yesterday."

"What's she doing here?" asked Bootstrap.

Jack frowned. "Not much room for cargo."

Barbossa grunted. "So what she carries must be extremely valuable: gold, silver, gemstones, urgent dispatches, and when she can't fill her hold with those, then she'll carry the Caribbean's white gold: sugar!"

"Where are her bloody cannon?" groused Jack.

"Those are them. She's not built for fighting. She's built for running. But look there," said Captain Barbossa nodding toward the harbor entrance. "There's her escort while she's in these waters: _HMS Jaguar._"

A sleek frigate was sailing in on the wake of the _Quail_. The warship was freshly painted; her lines gleamed white in the sunlight; her pristine sails billowed; her crew stepped lively. She was trouble, looking to fall upon any pirate foolish enough to get within eyeshot of the _Queen's Quail._

Jack Sparrow ignored _HMS Jaguar_. His eyes were solely focused on the seductive clipper. "Valuable cargo. Few cannon. Interesting."

"I'm here to sign on as a crew member on yon lovely boat, er, ship." Jack looked lustfully at _The Queen's Quail_, which was tied up just behind a party of armed marines off the _Jaguar_.

A covey of muskets pointed their single, black eyes at him.

"We're here to blow your soul to the deepest pits of Hell. Back away!" snarled a young naval officer, Lieutenant Norrington.

Jack backed away. "No openings have you?"

Norrington grabbed Jack's arm and shoved his sleeve up. "Well, at least you're not branded. -–Why do I get the urge to end that sentence with the word 'yet'? What's this?"

"It's a tattoo."

"Of a birdie?"

"A sparrow, if you will. That's me. Jack Sparrow, Ordinary Seaman."

Norrington sneered. "Ordinary Seaman?"

"That's only me job title, mate. In reality, I'm a seaman extraordinary."

"The _Queen's Quail_ is not hiring."

"Oh. Well, then I'll just have a friendly look around then, shall I?"

The flints of the muskets were pulled back.

"They obviously don't want me," observed Jack Sparrow, "but then, none of them is officer material, are they? What sayeth thou?"

Norrington glared at him. "I shall count to three," he hissed. "On the count of three, these men will fire. One."

Jack held up a finger. "Please, I wouldn't want you to strain your mathematical abilities."

"Two."

Jack shrugged and wandered back up the wharf.

"I've never wanted anything so badly in all my life."

The young, pretty, very naked strumpet walked on her knees across the bed to where Jack Sparrow sat moping. She pulled the side of his head down onto one of her lovely breasts. "Not even me?"

"You must understand, love," mourned Jack, "that you're just a woman. There's a special bond between a man and a ship."

CRACK! The palm of her hand slashed across Jack Sparrow's face, loosening a filling.

He blinked. "Did I say something wrong?"


	2. Gambling with a God

2. Gambling with a God

The head of Jack Sparrow nearly half screwed itself off as he twisted around once more to stare at _The Queen's Quail,_ riding comfortably at dockside. The setting sun had now turned the western skies blood red, and the reefed sails of the clipper were pinker than a virgin's-

"Are you playing here or not?" snapped a harsh voice from across the table.

"She's going to sail away in the night," Jack whimpered. "I just know it." He turned back around to find himself in a dingy crowded room, filled with harsh grumbles, cigar smoke, the clink of doubloons, the bitter smell of stale ale, and the stench of unwashed armpits. "How much to me?" he asked, reminding himself of the cards that he held.

"Three. Three doubloons."

Jack nodded and tossed the coins into the middle of the table. "There's my three and another seven." He turned to Bootstrap on his left. "That's ten to you."

Bootstrap checked his cards and then folded.

The next seaman simply said, "I'm in."

"Coins," Jacked reminded him. "Coins, coins."

The man pointed at a thumb-sized figurine in the middle of the table. "I'm in with that," he growled. "Would you pay attention to the game?"

Jack picked it up. It was made of crystal, somewhat human in form but with a face that would make a mother vomit. "What is it?"

"The Inca God of Death, or so I've been told."

Jack made a face and dropped it back into the center of the table, shaking the bad juju off his fingers. "At least this is a little better," he said picking up the emerald sitting next to it. He examined it. "Tiny, discolored and flawed, to be sure, but an emerald nonetheless."

Bootstrap shrugged. "It was all they had."

"So my three has been raised seven, right?" asked a one-eyed Spaniard. When his question was met with a cascade of affirmative grunts, he tossed in his coins.

"And I'm in with the emerald," said the next seaman. "So, I call."

With a flourish, Jack Sparrow laid down a quartet of queens, topped with the ace of hearts. "I do attract the ladies, don't I, mates?" he boasted and raked in his winnings. As he did so, he took another look over his shoulder.

"She won't be leaving tonight," said the one-eyed Spaniard.

"How do you know?

"Her captain's ashore. She won't sail without her captain."

"Ashore, where? Doing what? Where is he?"

The Spaniard shrugged.

"Mates, these questions need to be answered and answered quickly," Jack said scrabbling up his winnings and preparing to leave.

"Not with our money, you ain't."

"It used to be your money," Jack reminded him. "Now, it's my money."

"Cheater!" screamed the seaman, drawing his sword. "You've been cheating us!"

Others at the table took up the cry. Bootstrap rose to defend him but had a rum bottle smashed on his head. He went down hard.

When seamen at the other table saw that it was Jack Sparrow who was being accused, they too took up the cry. More and more swords were being drawn against him.

Jack grabbed his winnings and fled. He ran to the corner of the room, jumped, kicked off of one wall, and then kicked off its neighbor, and quick as a twinkling, Jack Sparrow was up on the exposed joists, which ran beneath the roof. He ran back along one of the narrow wooden beams.

A pistol fired. That was hardly fair, now, was it?

The underside of the roof on the far side of the room was coming up fast. Jack put his arms up in front of his face, leaped, drawing his legs up and, doing a pretty good imitation of a cannonball, blasted through the thatched roof.

He sailed through the air and would have hit the ground running if he hadn't stumbled, somersaulted and tumbled face first into the mud. Before he could regain his feet, strong hands pulled him up.

"Is this the man?"

Men stuck their heads out the door and were pressed up against the windows. "Yes, cheater!" they cried. "Cheater, cheater, cheater!"

"Come with us!" the two soldiers growled, dragging him along.


	3. Dungeon

3. Dungeon

Jack Sparrow and an unconscious Bootstrap Bill Turner were hurled into the empty cell in the King's Dungeon. The iron door clanged shut behind them. The guards had relieved Jack of his winnings, of course, but they'd left him with the crystalline idol, which they thought was cute, and with the tiny emerald, which he'd managed to hide in a crusty puddle of earwax.

It was a slow night in Port Royal. The only other prisoner was a woman in the next cell.

Once the guards left, Jack tried the door, but it wouldn't budge. He tried it again, but it still wouldn't budge. He tried it a third time, but again, but it wouldn't budge. He tried it again, again, again, and again. Finally, he kicked it, gave up, walked back over to where Bootstrap lay, and sat down on the straw-covered stone floor.

"Oh Jack Sparrow," crooned the woman in the next cell, "what 'chu be doin' here?" She was a dark-skinned woman, with ebony, corn-rolled hair which looked as if it'd been blown in by a hurricane. She was dressed in little better than rags, but Jack got the feeling that her raggedy clothes were a fashion statement rather than a sign of poverty. A tiny line of tattooed dots ran along the tops of her cheekbones, and her lips were tattooed black. She smiled, showing blackened teeth. Her Jamaican accent was so thick and heavy, it could be used for a battering ram.

"Have we met?"

"Oh no," she cooed, "but we will. You are destined for great t'ings. Captain Jack Sparrow."

He shook his head. "Sorry love, Ordinary Seaman Jack Sparrow. Incarcerated for cheating at cards."

"I'm surprised dey caught chu."

"They didn't. It was a lucky guess on their part."

"Ahhh."

"What about you? What are you in for?"

"Oh, some people said dat I'm a witch. At dawn, I am to be burned alive."

Jack winced. "Sorry, love."

"Don't be. It won't happen."

"Well, I certainly hope not." Under hooded eyes, Jack watched the woman as she sashayed around her cell. She was most likely a slave, or an escaped slave; in a few hours, she'd be facing a certain and horrible death; and yet she walked with the elegance of a queen. When Jack's time came, he hoped he'd demonstrate as much dignity as this woman.

He went rummaging in his pocket and fished out the crystal figurine. He went over to the cell dividing the two cells and held it out to her. "Here you go love, a little trinket for you."  
She turned to him but froze when she saw what it was. "You offer dat to me?" she gasped.

He nodded and pushed it forward again.

She took a single step, and stopped. "Do you know what it is?"

"Haven't got the foggiest."

"In dat case . . ." she took final step and snatched it from him. She gazed in awe at the little object.

Jack got that sinking feeling in his stomach which he got whenever he realized he'd just made a bad deal. "What is it?"

"A heathen bobble," she shrugged. "Not'ing to bot'er yer mind about."

"Love," Jack chided her. "You owe me more for that than just a lie."

"Tia Dalma does not lie!" she snarled, but quickly pulled her emotions back. "But sometimes I do not speak de whole trut'. And dere is no denying dat I do owe you something. So tell me, Jack Sparrow, what is your fondest desire?"

"You mean, other than being out of this place?"

Tia Dalma smiled. "Dat goes wit'out saying."

He shook off her request and headed back for his spot on the floor.

"You listen to me, Jack Sparrow! I am a most powerful wuman! Dey say dat in da morning, dey will burn me. But dey are wrong. Dey condemn me because dey say I have great powers. In dat, dey are correct. Which is why dey will not be able to burn me. And so when I ask you what is your fondest desire, I am not just making idle chit-chat."

Jack turned and came back to her. "When I was arrested, I was just getting ready to seek out the captain of the _Queen's Quail_, so I could find out from him his ship's sailing time and course."

Tia Dalma looked surprised and somewhat amused. "Dat's all?"

Jack nodded gravely. "That's all. Quiet! Someone's coming!"


	4. Deal with the Devil

4. Deal with the Devil

Jack hurried back to his spot on the floor and pretended to be asleep.

Two guards came in, followed by a sweet-smelling gentleman and his retinue. The curls on either side of the gentleman's powdered wig were wound as tightly and as perfectly as the insides of a pair of rifle barrels. He crinkled his delicate nose and cast a glance in the direction of the two prone men. "What do they do," he sneered, "bathe in that swill?"

A guard pointed to the other cell. "Sir Cutler, this is Tia Dalma, the woman you were asking about."

She approached him with the same caution she'd have shown a cobra with its hood spread wide. "You know my name," she began.

"I am Sir Cutler Beckett, captain of the East India Company's clipper ship, _Queen's Quail_," he announced. "I understand you are having some legal difficulties."

"Not'ing dat I cannot handle."

A droll smirk flickered across his lips. "All evidence to the contrary. Miss Dalma, I have in my possession," he reached inside his lavender coat and extracted some legal documents, "a full pardon for your crimes."

When he paused for effect, she leaned forwards and hissed, "Real and _imaginary_."

"Yes. Quite so."

"And why dis magnanimous act of charity from Captain Sir Cutler Beckett?"

The gentleman chuckled. "Miss Dalma, anyone who knows me will tell you that my name and the word 'charity' should never be located within the same sentence. No, what I offer you a business transaction, plain and simple."

"So, in exchange for de pardon, I give you . . ?"

"You are reputed to have second sight."

"Ah!"

"At three bells of the middle watch, I shall be setting sail. My course must necessarily take my ship through the Windward Passage, which is the most heavily pirated waterway in the world. It would be a boon if you could inform me what pirate ships pose a threat to me and where there are, so that corrective measures can be taken."

"And for dat, I get freedom?"

"For that, you get freedom."

She pondered for a moment. "To begin with, der is a squadron of two ships near de east end of Jamaica, just southeast of Folly Bay. Dey are out to sea because dey know dat merchant ships avoid de shoals near shore. But if you reach dere at high tide, de shoals pose little risk, as long as you take care."

"Let us find more comfortable surroundings in which to discuss this, shall we?" He motioned for the jailer to unlock her cell. She was led up the steps, but Captain Beckett stayed behind with one of the jailers.

"They appear to be asleep, don't they," murmured Captain Beckett to the jailer, "but looks can be deceiving. I'd hate for word of this to leak out. So, in the morning, have them hung."

"But sir! They's only in f'cheatin' at cards!"

"Cheating at cards!" echoed Captain Beckett in mock horror. "Why, that's tampering with the basic rules that make this society function. It's neigh on sedition. Indeed sir, now that I put my mind to it, it is sedition! Sedition, plain and simple. So most assuredly, these miscreants must be hanged." He took the purse from his waistline, measured its contents by its heft, and gave it to the guard. "Let justice be done!"


	5. Bootstrap's Rude Awakening

5. Bootstrap's Rude Awakening

Some moments later, Bootstrap snorted, moaned, grunted, and began to rouse himself. "Where in hell am I?" he grumbled.

"His Majesty's dungeon," answered the jailer, who had remained behind after the others had left.

Bootstrap looked around, trying to remember how to focus his eyes. "Crykies, not again. What for this time?"

"Cheatin' at cards."

Jack raised his head, "-and sedition, if my ears did not deceive me."

"Well, hey, I-"

"How much did you get for selling us to the hangman? Not even 30 pieces of silver, I'll wager."

The jailer shrugged, "You ain't no Jesus Christ."

"But there're two of us. Quantity counts for something, mate. You should have held out for more."

"A poor man takes what he can get."

Bootstrap croaked, "Sedition?"

"Aye, mate," Jack said. "Some rich toff wants us to be hanged, and so it's sedition we're charged with, not cheatin' at cards."

Bootstrap protested, "But they'll never be able to prove that at trial!"

"Ain't gonna be no trial," said the jailer. "Execution's in the morning."

"All problems, neatly solved," observed Jack.

A low moan of despair issued from Bootstrap as he sunk back down to the floor.

Jack Sparrow went digging in his ear, in search of the emerald. "Look mate, you entered into one transaction tonight, so maybe you might find interest in a second." He extracted the emerald from the earwax and began cleaning it off.

"I can't be letting you go," said the jailing, "not after promisin' that other fine gent we'd hang you. Why, that'd be dishonest, that would!"

"And I wouldn't want you to anything dishonest," Jack assured him. "It's just me and my friend don't want to go through all eternity with the wrong job titles on our tombstones. We ain't card cheats, mate. -We're pirates."

"Pirates!"

Bootstrap sunk even lower to the floor. "Jack, you're not helping."

The jailer took the gem and examined it. "What is it?"

"It's an emerald."

"Really? I've heard tell of them, but I ain't never seen one before."

Jack gestured grandly. "Well now you have. It's yours."

The jailer sighed. "There's a problem. Pirates don't get tombstones. After they're hanged, they're strung up down by Lookout Rock until the crows pick their bones clean, and they fall into the sea. So, if you want the proper thing written on your tombstone . . ." He shrugged.

"No worries, mate. Keep it. Just as long as people here don't think we're card cheats. I have a reputation to protect."

Candle light flickered through the emerald and came out in a dazzling array of greens. "By all that's holy," breathed the jailer, "she's a pretty little thing, ain't she?"

"I can't believe you've never seen an emerald before."

"On my salary? I'm lucky to see anything more valuable than rice and beans."

Jack nodded sympathetically. "You should have been a pirate, mate. The pay's much better."

The jailer thought about this. "How much better?"

"Oh, it depends. Take that pretty prize sitting down in the harbor now, the _Queen's Quail_. Why, if me and my shipmates could take her, the minimum pay for each man would be, oh, fifteen hundred pieces of eight, each."

The jailer goggled. "Fifteen hundred!"

Bootstrap was peeling himself off the floor. "Or more, I'd say. We'd each get much more than just fifteen hundred."

Jack asked, "Are you married, mate?"

The jailer deflated, nodding miserably.

"So am I!" grinned Bootstrap. "Haven't seen her in years! She loves it. I send her more money than I could ever make honestly, and she never has to smell me feet when me boots are off."

"What's it like," asked the jailer, "living aboard a pirate ship?"

"Good grub, good grog," Jack replied, "just a short voyage out, grab a ship, and then sail home again."

"Aye!" gushed Bootstrap, "that's where the real livin' begins, back at home in Tortuga! You have all this money in your pocket, and so you can buy all the food you want, all the drink you can swill, soft beds, fancy clothes, and the women, ooooh, the women!"

The jailer's eyes were glassy. "You're right," he murmured in awe. "I shudda been a pirate."

"It's not too late," whispered Jack.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"All you have to do is to take that key and unlock this door."

The jailer looked to the key, looked to the lock and then miserably shook his head. "I can't. I promised the gentleman that you'd hang."

Jack nodded. "And we wouldn't want you to go back on your word."

Bootstrap added, "Whatever would you tell your wife . . . and kids. You have any kids?"

The jailer nodded. "My wife's had five, and I suspect some of them must be mine. Nasty little buggers, they all are." He spat.

Jack murmured oh so softly, "You shudda been a pirate."

The jailer suddenly spun around, flung himself at key, shoved it into the lock with such force it nearly bent, twisted it, and when the door popped open, he led the scramble up the stairs.


	6. A Nefarious Scheme

6. A Nefarious Scheme

Lieutenant Norrington escorted Captain Barbossa up onto the spotless quarterdeck of _HMS Jaguar_. The young officer saluted his captain. "Distressing news, sir, from this civilian ship captain.

"Oh?"

Barbossa nodded his head. "Captain Hector Barbossa, sir, of the _Black Pearl_, at your service, sir. Bad tidings to report to you, sir."

"Go on."

"Well, I was just about to set sail with a cargo bound for Bermuda, when I got warned off. It seems like there's two pirate ships, the _Phobos_ and the _Deimos, _prowlin' the seas just off Folly Bay."

"East end of the island?"

"Precisely, sir. Now, I've had run-ins with these two before. The _Pearl_, she's a tough ship. I could brush aside either one or the other of them, but not both together. I need government help for that."

"Meaning me?"

"Meaning you, sir. You and this truly remarkable ship."

_HMS Jaguar_'s captain peered through the moonlight over at the _Black Pearl_. She did indeed appear to be a tough armed merchantman. _Jaguar_ had been preparing to cast off and go in search of the two pirate ships by itself, having learned of them from Captain Beckett. But if this Barbossa fellow wanted to throw his cannons in as support, well, all the better. The captain sni_ffed,_ "We sail within the half hour. Can you be ready?"

"Ready as ready can be, sir," grinned Barbossa.

As the two ships raced across a moonlit ocean, the jailer from Port Royal looked nervously over the bow railing and signaled Jack Sparrow over. "Uh, is it usual for a pirate ship to be escorted by a naval frigate?"

Jack smiled. "But they don't know where pirates now, do they, mate? They think we're an honest merchantman on our way to Bermuda. And they think we're off to help them with a couple of pirate ships lurking off Folly Bay. But, what's really going to happen is this:

"It's always foggy off Folly Bay this time of year. When we reach to fog, we'll veer off and leave them to go fight those two pirate ships somewhere out to sea. We'll creep in near shore, where the shoals are, and where we know the _Queen's Quail_ is going to come creepin' along. And while that naval frigate is trading broadsides with the other pirates, we'll snatch up the fairest prize in all the oceans. Savvy?"

The jailer nodded greedily.

"All hands to muster on the main deck!" came the cry.

"That'll be the captain asking for one or more volunteers," hissed Jack to the jailer. "Whatever he suggests, it'll sound like a grand opportunity. It always does. But no matter what, don't volunteer. It'll be a suicide mission. Savvy?"

The jailer's eyes went wide. "Thank you, Jack."


	7. Quail Hunting

7. _Quail _Hunting

The Devil, Himself must have sent this fog. It blotted out the moon and the stars, turning the stygian night into a gigantic game of Blindman's Bluff. Moisture condensed from out of the swirling air onto the lines and the reefed sails and then, like an icy rain, it pattered down onto the deck below.

But Jack Sparrow was above all that. He was stationed in the crow's nest, far above the muffled sounds made by the crew and the rhythmic swirl of sea waves on the hull.

There was no chance of seeing the _Queen's Quail _in this fog, and so he was listening for her. The surrounding shoals and this fog would slow her to a crawl, just like any other ship. Her leadsman would be checking the depths, and whispering the results up to her captain. Her crew would try to work silently, but they'd be blundering around in total darkness. So, if she were near and if Jack listened carefully, he should be able to hear her.

Jack was normally a peaceful man. Only two situations could cause him to fight. First, if an enemy was between Jack and the exit, and then he'd pull steel and battle with all the fury of a cornered rat. Second, if there were money involved.

Captain Barbossa had declared that the volunteer who made it aboard the _Queen's Quail_ and who disabled her would receive five times his normal cut of the booty. Five times! Still, no one would do it. The crew claimed that any such attempt would be suicide, and five times the normal share were of no use to a man who was dead! So Jack had talked the captain up to ten.

Now Jack heard the _Quail_. Sounds of men working, quietly to be sure, but bumping and thumping just the same. And voices too, quiet and murmuring, but there!

Jack wished he could signal down to the crew below, to tell them to be even more quiet than they were, but the deck was swathed in mists, and he could see no one, and no one could see him.

He took the line he'd prepared and fingered the grabbling hook. He began twirling the hook to gain momentum. He let the length of line grow and the momentum increase. Faster and faster. And then he hurled the hook far out into the darkness towards the sounds. He felt the line flying away and then falling slowly downwards.

But suddenly, the hook caught!

Jack pulled the line taut. He tested it to make sure it held firm. Then he said a quick prayer to any gods who may have been listening and who were still on speaking terms with him, leaped up into the air, and let the line swing him in a long, graceful arc.

A moment later, he shot out of the fog between the two masts of the _Queen's Quail_, rocketed a few feet above her main deck, passed over her far railing, and disappeared into the fog again. Somewhere in there, he should have let go. But it had all happened so quickly.

He readjusted his grip. In doing so, he brought his fingers down on wet line. They slipped, and he fell. A short scream erupted from his lips, and then he splashed into the sea.

"Man overboard!" came the automatic cry.

"Quiet you idiot!" hissed a voice sounding like Captain Beckett's.

The man whispered back, "Sorry sir, but it sounded like an officer."

"Oh, we sound differently when we scream, do we?"

"No sir. I mean, I know the officer, sir. I just don't know this one's name. I calls them all 'sir' – sir."

"Oh, lower a bloody longboat."

Jack thought for a moment of trying to swim away or to hide in the fog, but blast, he was treading water in the middle of the ruddy sea! Maybe he could find the shore, or maybe he could find the _Black Pearl_ again, but then again, maybe he couldn't. And part of his goal had been to get aboard the _Queen's Quail_, right? So when he heard the longboat approaching, he shouted, "Here! Over here!"

They found him quickly enough. The men were surprised to find he was no one they'd even seen before, but their rough hands dragged him out of the water, and they rowed him back to the ship.

Captain Beckett was waiting on the main deck when Jack came dripping up the ladder.

"Permission to come aboard, sir?"

Captain Beckett looked at him in shock. "Where did you come from?"

"I cannot tell a lie," replied Jack Sparrow, wiping off a faceful of seawater. "I fell from the moon."


	8. Interplanetary Voyages

8. Interplanetary Voyages of Great Scientific Importance

Jack Sparrow had thought this was a brilliant lie. It was unexpected, all encompassing, and irrefutable. It would sew confusion within the ranks of the enemy, cause chaos, and would distract them from what their main purpose, namely preventing Jack Sparrow from disabling their pretty little ship.

Sir Cutler Beckett, captain of the East India Company's clipper ship _Queen's Quail_, concluded immediately that this story was not only a flat-out, bald-face lie, but a weepingly stupid one at that. He cocked a dubious eyebrow. "You are a moon man?"

Jack made a face. "Oh don't be daft, mate. A moon man? Do I look like I'm eight feet tall, have four arms and three eyes? Why, I'm no more a moon man than you are! What I said was that I fell from the moon."

Captain Beckett had armed a half dozen of his bully boys with belaying pins. Jack's words caused them to crowd closer with their muscles budging and their teeth grinding.

"From the moon?" echoed Beckett.

"From," nodded Jack.

"But you're not one of its inhabitants?"

"No, no, no. Oh no."

"Then, where are you from—originally."

Jack shrugged. "I was born in Nassau town, but of late, I've been in London studying under the renowned physicist and natural philosopher, William Gilbert."

"Yours aren't the clothes of a Londoner."

Jack looked down at the garb he was wearing. "I've been travelling, mate."

"So tell me, mate," said Captain Beckett in a voice as quiet as a blade cutting a man's throat, "how did you happen to be on the moon?"

Jack loosened his arms as if clearing the space around him. This was going to be a big lie, and he needed room to tell it. "It was because of an experiment I was doing for Dr. Gilbert, y'see. He's the world's leading expert on magnetism. He had me sit on an iron plate and throw a magnet into the air. Iron, you know, is attracted to a magnet.

"Well, the magnetism lifted up the iron plate I was sitting on, and I was able to catch the magnet. I immediately hurled it up still higher, and up I went after it. I caught the magnet again and threw it still higher. And I did this over and over again, losing all track of how high I was getting, and the next thing I knew, I was plummeting down towards the face of the moon. Thankfully, I fell into the Sea of Tranquility. If I'd have landed on one of the moon's many mountains, I would have been dashed to pieces!"

"Most assuredly," drawled Captain Becket. "And your fantastic device: the magnet and iron plate?"

"Sunk, I'm afraid. Sunk to the bottom of the Sea of Tranquility. Iron sinks in water you know."

"Yes, it does do that. So, how did you ever manage to return to us here on Earth?"

"Moonmist," replied Jack without even blinking.

Captain Beckett pursed his lips. "Moonmist?"

"It gathers rather thickly around the Sea of Tranquility this time of year. After being stranded on the moon for quite some time, I noticed this phenomenon. So I spent one night, lying on the shore. The moonmist gathered in my clothing, soaking them. Then next morning, when the sun came over the horizon and the moonmist rose up to meet it, my soaked clothing rose with it, and with my clothing, went I!"

"Moonmist?"

"Aye! Moonmist."

"I had a rope and a grappling hook with me. My plan was to snag a tree on my way back down to Earth and thereby to prevent myself from being killed by the fall. But when I fell into this fog, I just threw them out blinding, praying for the best. They must be around here somewhere." Jack got up and wandered around the deck, gazing up into the rigging. "Ah there!" he exclaimed, pointing at the line dangling down from one of the uppermost spars.

The captain came up behind him. "Seize this man," he instructed his bully boys. Place him in the spare cabin. He shall be escorted back and forth to the head, at which time he shall be watched closely. At all other times, he will remain under close guard in the cabin. He is a prisoner.

The bully boys grabbed Jack and bound his wrists. As they spun him around to frog march him to the cabin, he came face-to-face with the deepest, the darkest, the most exotic and enticing eyes on the planet.

The beauty who possessed them fell back against her two female companions. She was obviously terrified by this man with the wide tales and the still wilder appearance.

As for Jack, earlier in the day, he had fallen madly in love with the _Queen's Quail_. He had vowed that his heart would never belong to another. Now, less than twelve hours later, he had fallen in love for a second time.


	9. Visitors

Visitors

Wrists bound tightly behind him, Jack sat on a three-legged stool and, in the flickering light of a single candle, looked around the windowless cabin. Things were going quite well.

The _Black Pearl_ had isolated the _Queen's Quail_ and had then located her as she made her way through thick fog in the shallow shoals off Folly Bay. Jack has succeeded in boarding her, with no one guessing that a deadly pirate ship lurked nearby. He was now just a few yards away from the rudder chains, which Jack needed to disable in order to complete his mission.

A few problems remained: his bound wrists, the locked door, the armed guards, and a suspicious and hostile crew. Trifles.

A soft rapping came on the cabin door.

Curious. "Enter."

A key rattled in the lock outside, the door squeaked open and an iron-haired woman stuck her iron-hard face in. "May we enter?" she asked in a voice as hard and brittle as iron.

Jack shrugged.

The woman came in, her black, starch-stiff dress looking remarkably like iron.

She was followed by the angel he had seen earlier. Jack's heart beat frantically in the birdcage of his ribs as it tried to make its way to her. Her dark brown eyes wove a spell. The wisps of her perfume drove him insane. The grace of her movements turned his bones to jelly. "Please do enter," he croaked.

The angel was followed by a giggling woman of spherical dimensions.

"Good morning, senor," breathed the angel. "I am Donna Margarita Rosario Lucille Susanna Blanca-Rosa Bellaza del Toro Mendoza."

"Donna," he murmured. "One of my favorite names."

"No senor. 'Donna' is an honorific, like Sir Cutler is prefaced with 'Sir.' Call me Margarita, or Margarite for short, or when formality is required, Donna Margarita."

"Margarite," repeated Jack dutifully. If this woman were to be his wife and the mother of his children, he should make an effort to get her name right.

"This elegant lady is Donna Elaine," she said, indicating the iron woman. "She is my duenna."

"Splendid. Er, what's a duenna?"

"And elder lady who accompanies a younger lady to ensure the younger lady's virtue remains intact."

What a perfectly horrid idea. Jack forced a grin. "A pleasure to meet you, Donna Elaine."

"And this silly," continue Margarite indicating the woman with an equator where her waist should have been, "is my lady's maid Cecilia."

"Charmed," said Jack to a chorus of Cecilia's giggles. "And what are three fine lovelies such as yourselves doing aboard this ship?"

Donna Margarita blushed prettily. "I am the fiancée of Sir Cutler. We are sailing to his family's estate near Dublin for our wedding. My father and mother have returned briefly home to Spain to arrange an appropriate dowry, and then they and my brothers and sisters will meet us there in Dublin."

"Your parents don't worry that Captain Beckett might try to take advantage of you in their absence?"

"Oh no," replied Margarite. "First, I have Donna Elaine here to protect me. And second, Sir Cutler is as passionate as a mortician. No woman has anything to fear from him, ever."

"I'm sure you're not here to tell me that."

"No senor. I am here to ask you: Was what you said true?"

"Er, what did I say?"

"Did you really travel to the moon and back again?"

"Oh that! I'm here, aren't I?"

"In that case, I must tell you of the bargain that Donna Elaina and I have struck. I think it would be exciting to kiss an adventurer as great as you. She says I may, but only upon one condition."

Donna Elaina interposed herself between Jack and Margarite. "You must kiss me first!" she declared.

Cecilia interposed herself between Jack and Donna Elaina. "And me as well," she added.

Donna Margarita did her best to look between the heads of Donna Elaina and of Cecilia. "You are, in our estimation, a most exciting man."


	10. Jack Sparrow Gets Lucky

10. Jack Sparrow Gets Lucky

"I'll need my wrists cut free," said Jack. "I mean, if a gent is to kiss lady, in order to do it properly, he really should take her in his arms."

Donna Elaina pulled out a wicked looking blade and pointed it at Jack's nose. "Agreed. Turn around." Jack turned, and the woman sawed her way through his bindings. Jack turned back around, rubbing his wrists to get the blood there flowing again.

Cecilia used one of her horse-sized hips to shove Donna Elaina aside. "Me first!" She grinned lustfully at Jack. Then her chubby arms went around him, and she crushed him to her. Cecilia was blessed with immense feminine charms. Either one of her enormous breasts was larger than the four breasts of her two companions combined. Her python-like grip combined with her extreme curvature to nearly break poor Jack's back. Her kiss was enthusiastic, wet and sloppy. When she finally released him, he staggered backwards, gasping.

"Me next," snarled Donna Elaina, yanking Jack back into place. Her sudden kiss was like a Prussian military drill: firm, tight, and no nonsense. Well perhaps a little nonsense because, halfway through the kiss, her hand sought out Jack's and planted it firmly on her buttocks. When the kiss finished, she gave him a curt nod. "Quite satisfactory," she reported.

Margarite flowed into Jack's arms. With his head spinning, their lips met for the first time, sweet lips, gentle lips, warm and loving lips. Her tongue toyed with his. Jack sighed and reached for her undoubtedly firm bottom, but was intercepted by Donna Elaina. He tried again, but the older woman thwarted him again. Before he could try for the third time, Donna Elaina plastered herself against the back of Donna Margarita, seized Jack's hand, and planted it insistently back on her own buttocks.

Jack's eyes popped open and he found himself looking into the fierce glare of Donna Elaina. Those hostile eyes told him there was no way he was going to be able to get to the bottom of Donna Elaina's ward, that he would have to be satisfied with Donna Elaina's own stringy backside.

Margarita finally freed herself, gasping for breath. "My," she panted. "That was really something. When it comes to kissing, you could certainly teach Sir Cutler a thing or twelve."

Jack looked back and forth between the three women. "So ladies, what now?"

"Well, we've discussed that as well," replied Margarite. "Do you by any chance gamble at cards?"

Jack squirmed. "It's not something I'm very proud of, but yes, I have been known to partake, every now and again."

"Some nice sailors back in Port Royal taught us how, and we find the game to be quite exhilarating."

"I would love to," said Jack, "but unfortunately, my funds were purloined back in port. I have nothing to play with."

"Why, we faced that same problem back in Port Royal. And those nice sailors suggested we play for clothing instead."

"Clothing?"

"That's right. You wager something like, say, your boot, and each of us puts up something similar like, say, a glove. Oh do try! It'll be fun!"

"Well, if you all insist. But on one condition only. I deal. I wouldn't want any of you ladies trying to cheat me."

They giggled. "None of us are expert enough to do that, but if it will make you feel more secure, of course you may deal."

As usually happened when Jack Sparrow dealt, he had an astonishing run of good luck.

Cecilia was no good at cards whatsoever and soon, her great rolls of femininity were laid bare for all to see. Donna Elaina and Donna Margarita were somewhat better players and so had been reduced to lesser stages of undress. Jack had lost his shirt but not much else.

Without warning, the door swung open and Captain Beckett entered. He stared agog at the naked or nearly naked ladies before him. They stared back and then looked beseechingly to Jack. So he gave them a sound piece of advice:

"Run!"

They shrieked, covered their more exposed areas, and ran.

Captain Beckett saw his unclothed fiancée fleeing, and he quickly sprinted after her. The two guards stared at the running Donna Elaina and Cecilia, looked to each other for guidance, and then scrambled after them.

Jack put on his shirt, picked up the knife Donna Elaina had earlier used to cut his bonds, and set off through the unguarded door for the stern, humming: "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me."


	11. Cannon Fire!

Cannon fire!

Disabling a sailing ship is really very simple if a person knows what he's doing. Jack made his way back to the rudder.

Two chains were wrapped around the vertical shank, one was wound clockwise and the other counterclockwise. Each "chain" was a well tarred rope, and each ran above to the great steering wheel. When the great wheel was turned one way, it unwound one of the chains and the rudder shifted left. When the great wheel was turned the other way, the other chain was unwound, and the rudder shifted right. Jack used the knife to saw through both chains, detaching the rudder completely from the great wheel. After that, there was no practicable way to steer the ship.

Jack slipped the knife into his boot and made his way topside.

Pandemonium reigned on deck. In the pre-dawn twilight, men scurried to load the few small cannon and to wrestle them into position as the ship drifted helplessly.

Jack peered through the rising fog and saw was he was expecting to. The _Black Pearl_ was coming about, her batteries of cannon were rolled out, and she was preparing to fire a merciless broadside into the flimsy clipper ship. Jack almost pitied the slender ship. It would be such a lopsided duel.

"Fire!" roared the Captain Beckett, and that cry was repeated by the ship's officers overseeing the cannons_. _

Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. The sound of the _Queen's Quail's_ punycannons was almost comical.

The _Black Pearl_ shuttered as shot ripped into it. Cannons were overturned; the hull was repeated holed and splinters flew everywhere; spars shattered, dumping canvas and lines down onto the men below; kegs of powder exploded; flames billowed up.

Jack was agog. This was impossible! The _Quail's_ tiny collection of popguns could not have possibly caused this devastation. Yet there the _Black Pearl_ was, broken, on fire and already beginning to list to one side.

Her crew struggled desperately to get her guns back into action, but suddenly more shot ripped into her. Whole sections of her sides collapsed. The raging flames leaped up into her rigging and blazed as if the Devil himself were coming.

The fog lifted some more, revealing the _Phobos_ and the _Deimos _off to the _Black Pearl's_ starboard, raking her with cannon fire. To the _Black Pearl's_ port, the _Jaguar_ swept in, loosing another broadside into her.

"Not good," mumbled Jack. "Not good."

The _Queen's Quail_ fired off another one of her ragged broadsides. Four ships against the _Pearl._

"Not good. Not good."

The _Black Pearl_ began to sink.

A heavy hand fell upon Jack's shoulder. He turned to find Captain Beckett regarding him with eyes as cold as a blizzard in the Northwest Passage. "Time for this pirate to go for a little swim."

His bully boys manhandled Jack up into the air. They carried him over to the railing, and unceremoniously heaved him overboard.


	12. Face to Face With Death & Desire

Face to Face with Death & Desire

The _Queen's Quail_ swept away. As the first rays of morning hit her topgallants, Jack could hear the bellows of Captain Beckett as he ordered men below to repair the rudder chains.

Little else was in sight. The shore, wherever it was, was not yet visible. The clipper ship was rapidly leaving Jack in her wake. The _Phobos_, the _Deimos, _and the _Jaguar_ had all disappeared back into the rapidly lifting fog and, presumably, were still in a running gun battle over the _Quail_. In the distance, the _Black Pearl_ settled unevenly onto the shallow bottom, with her decks awash and her broken masts hanging like death itself. Waves swept in from the nearby deeper ocean and broke upon the shoals and on what was left of the _Pearl._ Closer to hand, the pinnacle of one of the jagged shoals broke the surface, and the gurgling sea surged around it.

Jack could see that men still moved on the deck of the _Pearl_, and so he struck out for her, swimming in long, even strokes.

He was nearing her when someone seized his collar from behind and a gravelling voice croaked in his ear, "Here mate, let me help you," after which he was pulled through the sea at a mind-boggling velocity. When he and his as-yet-unseen rescuer approached the hull of the _Pearl_, his companion gave an almighty grunt, and Jack was hurled up out of the sea, over the railing and onto the broken deck. "Here's another one for ye!" the mysterious rescuer bellowed.

Jack found himself seized and hoisted to his feet by sea monsters! They were all roughly humanoid in shape, but just barely. Their faces were something out of a nightmare or perhaps out of the deepest, darkest depths of the ocean. Their breaths smelled of rotten fish. Their skins were green and scaly. The herded him towards were the crew of the _Black Pearl_ knelt in a wretched line, shivering in terror.

He was pushed down to his knees at the end of the line.

After a moment, there came the clomp, climp, clomp, climp of a man walking with a peg leg. But when Jack saw what it was, his skinned crawled. It wasn't so much a peg leg that the officer walked on but rather the claw of a giant lobster. Jack's hair was seized, his head was pulled back, and he looked into the face of the king of all monsters.

It had a full beard and mustache, except not of hair but rather of sea worms which wriggled and swayed. One of the worms held a pipe and a nearby one held a match. The match was struck and held over to bowl of the pipe. At the monster gazed curiously into Jack's horrified face, he sucked on the pipe as the tobacco caught. A ring of smoke emerged from the monster's maw and broke upon Jack's face.

"Tell me," the monster queried. "Do you fear death?"

A most curious question, Jack thought. He frowned. "I'm Jack Sparrow," he explained.

"And I am Davy Jones," hissed the monster. "Now that we've had introductions, tell me: Do you fear that dark abyss? All your deeds laid bare? All your sins punished?"

"Sins?" echoed Jack. "What sins?"

Davy Jones looked amused. "You are an innocent man, are you?"

"Well, that all depends upon what you mean by the word 'innocent'."

The monster made a face. "To the depths with him!"

A razor-sharp blade nicked Jack's stretched throat.

"YOU WILL NOT HARM HIM, nor any man on dis ship!" The words cloaked in rich Jamaican accent ripped across the deck. Tia Dalma came gliding from out of nowhere, her dark eyes fierce, her countenance regal. "Dey are under my protection!"

Davy Jones waddled around to face her. "Calypso! Be gone! You have no power here!"

"I don't," she agreed, "but my little friend does." In her hands was the crystalline idol which Jack had given her back in Port Royal. It was now attached to a leather thong. Tia Dalma looped the thong around Jack's neck and let the idol fall to his chest.

Davy Jones glared at the idol. "Where did you get that?"

She smiled with black teeth. "It makes no difference where I got it from. It is here now."

"Bah!"

"Jack Sparrow," Tia Dalma chided. "What, may I ask, are you doin' here?"

"A bucketful of bad luck, luv," he moaned. "The ship I love, with the woman I love, has just sailed out of my life."

"Two loves?" she asked suspiciously.

Davy Jones cocked a bald eyebrow.

"Aye. I came here after my fondest desire and ended up with nothing."

"Two loves?" she asked again.

Davy Jones grinned evilly. "Why Calypso, m'dear. Whatever did you offer this poor lad?"

Jack mumbled, "The _Queen's Quail_."

"No, laddie. That isn't what she offered. She offered you your fondest desire, didn't she."

Tia Dalma spat, "You shut up, Davy Jones!"

But the monster crooned on. "But you didn't tell it to her, did you? You gave her a poor substitute. The _Queen's Quail_, indeed! The _Quail _was never your fondest desire. She was nothing more than just a passing fancy. What do you truly want, Jack Sparrow?"

Tia Dalma screamed, "Don't tell him, Jack! If you value your soul, don't tell him!" The monstrous crew grabbed her and held her. A foul gag was shoved into her mouth.

One of the sea worms in Davy Jones's beard fondled the crystalline idol on Jack's chest. "Calypso says I may not harm you, and she has enlisted this heathen god to aid her. So very well, I cannot harm you. But we can strike a bargain, you and I, an honest and fair bargain."

Off to the side, Tia Dalma struggled furiously against her captors but in vain.

Jack Sparrow shook his head. "I want the _Queen's Quail_," he insisted.

Davy Jones looked around the now-broken ship, which had been Jack Sparrow's home for the past years. He smiled, and then lowered his head to whisper. "You want the _Black Pearl._"

Jack shook his head. "No."

The monster frowned. When gazing into the hearts of men, it was not often that he was wrong. He looked around again, searching for what he had missed. Then a sly grin slid across his lips. He bent forward again. "You want to be captain of the _Black Pearl_."

Jack's eyes lift to him.

A beard worm twirled seductively. "I can give it to you. Five years as captain, and then you serve me for one hundred."

"Twenty-five years as captain," countered Jack.

"You'll be too old to be of much use after twenty-five years. Seven years."

"Twenty."

"Ten," offered Davy Jones.

"Fifteen."

"Thirteen."

"Done!"


	13. An Ending Fit for a Pirate

An Ending Fit for a Pirate

The _Black Pearl_ had crowded every square inch of canvas available onto her yards as she raced northeast towards the infamous Windward Passage. Sea spray stung Jack's eyes as he tried to catch the fleeing _Queen's Quail_, richest prize on all the oceans.

Sure, Jack knew the clipper ship was far faster than his pirate vessel, but there was no telling if the hurried repairs to the rudder chains might fail, or perhaps a sudden wind would snap a spar, or a sudden lightning storm might shatter a mast. Maybe the _Phobos_ or the _Deimos_ had damaged her, and she'd have to lay up for repairs. Anything could happen, and Captain Jack Sparrow was feeling lucky.

He glanced down to the main deck and saw First Mate Hector Barbossa glaring up at him. The man quickly looked away. Of course Barbossa would be thinking mutiny, wouldn't he? But Davy Jones had set a bargain that, for thirteen years, Jack would be Captain Jack Sparrow. So let Barbossa plot and plan all he liked; his days as captain of the _Black Pearl _were over.

"Boat in the water!" cried out the crow's nest lookout. "Nine points to port!"

Jack pulled out his spyglass, extended it, and looked in the described location. There indeed bobbed a long boat. Three figures huddled within it, none of them manning the oars. Indeed, none of the three were men. He called over to the helmsman, "Change course to intercept!"

A half an hour later, his ship had rendezvoused with the boat, and his crew rescued from the sea: Cecilia, the rotund lady's maid; Donna Elaina, looking as if her formidable iron will had rusted a bit; and Donna Margarita Rosario Lucille Susanna Blanca-Rosa Bellaza del Toro Mendoza, the sweetest lass any man had ever laid eyes upon. She shrugged. "My fiancé claims I'm a ruined woman," she explained, "and so he set us adrift."

"Sorry, luv."

"And so I've squandered my chance to be married to the most boring, the most self-centered, the most insufferable man in all of the world," she sighed. "Instead, I must make do with a life full of danger and excitement and," she looked deep into kohl-lined eyes, "romance?"

"Perhaps, luv," he purred. "Que sera, sera."

"And I don't even know the name of my rescuer."

Bootstrap Bill blurted out, "Jack Sparrow, miss!"

"Jack Sparrow," she echoed, tasting the deliciousness of the words as they rolled over her tongue.

He held up a finger. "Captain Jack Sparrow."

Margarite corrected herself. "Captain Jack Sparrow."

Captain Jack Sparrow called over to Bootstrap, "Mister Turner, if you please. Will you see to it that these three ladies are settled most comfortably in me own cabin?"

"Aye, Captain," replied Bootstrap, and he turned to lead the way. But then he turned back. "Beggin' the captain's pardon, but where would you like me to move your effects to?"

Jack shook his head. "Who said anything about moving my effects anywhere?"

The crew growled lustfully. Margarite blushed prettily. Cecilia giggled naughtily. And Donna Elaina gave him the most lascivious look he'd ever seen.

As the three ladies were led to their new quarters, the _Black _Pearl returned to her pursuit of the _Queen's _Quail.

Jack went over and relieved the helmsman. He was captain, wasn't he, and so who would criticize him if he wanted to steer his own ship, to feel the winds as they vibrated down to the great wheel, and to hear the sea breeze as it whistled in his hair. He began to sing, very softly:

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!"

The End

Author's Notes:

Captain Jack Sparrow is a $#^*&)! hard character to portray. This story began as a loose collection of drabbles which I started as an exercise, attempting to get a better grip on his elusive personality. As I wrote them, it occurred to me that the drabbles would be more interesting if woven together into a single story.

There were also questions in Jack's past which I wanted deal with. For example, when Caribbean women come across Captain Jack Sparrow, their usual reaction is to slap his face. Not so with Tia Dalma, who delights in seeing him and shows him genuine affection? Why? Davy Jones gives his captives two choices: serve on his crew for 100 years or have their throats slit. How is it, then, that Jack was able to wrangle a 13-year-captainsy out of him? And oddly, the rest of the crew apparently escaped without having to make Davy Jones' dread choice.

Setting a story before Jack Sparrow was made captain, created its own problems. The story would necessarily have to pre-date the appearances of many of the movies' main characters. Gibbs speaks of his first meeting with Captain Jack Sparrow. In the opening scenes of the first movie, we find Will, Elizabeth and Governor Swan all on their way out to the New World at a time when Jack is already a captain. So I had to scrounge around for any characters I could.

I will get criticism from some historical purists. They will point out that clipper ships did not come into their own until the 1840's. True, but Baltimore clippers (the type portrayed here) were built before the Revolutionary War. Still, these purists will point out that Port Royal was destroyed by a pair of earthquakes and a tsunami around the turn of the century, decades before the first Baltimore clipper was ever built. How then did Captain Sir Cutler Beckett get his hands on one? I point out that Captain Beckett is a most resourceful and often roguish character. As to what nefarious means he used to circumvent the laws of chronology, you need to ask him.


End file.
